Query: To Retcon or Not To Retcon
by sessha-chan
Summary: Sherlock meets a Torchwood operative. Apparently hackers get house calls. Now begs the question: To Retcon, or Not to Retcon. Sequel to Looking for a Doctor. Third in what's turning out to be a series. unBETAed.


**A/N:** The unexpected third to what has shaped up to be a trilogy. I've been trying to get back in the swing of writing and this little series seems to have sprouted from that ambition. I have no idea how many more for this series I'll do, if any.

**Note:** You night want to read _A Quick Stopover on Baker Street_ and _Looking for A Doctor_ before you read this one. it might make a bit more sense then.

**Query: To Retcon or Not To Retcon**

Sessha-chan

John was still out doing the shopping. Sherlock was mentally sorting the information he had retrieved (read: stolen) from the UNIT and Torchwood digital archives. Deep in the corridors and rooms of his mind palace Sherlock took time to absorb the massive amount of sheer information he had unearthed on his mysterious alien visitor.

The presence of another person in the sitting room tugged Sherlock's attention back into the physical world. He blinked pale eyes at the man who was sitting in John's chair, watching Sherlock.

"Back?" the man asked, looking amused.

Sherlock let his gaze wander over the visitor. American, but he has spent many years in Wales - Cardiff, actually. Older than he looks, but how old Sherlock cannot tell. Sexually open. Worked with both technology and weaponry. Not military - rather, not military anymore. Retired? Possibly.

Conclusions: not UNIT personnel. Torchwood operative.

"That was quick," Sherlock commented, sitting back on the sofa.

"Sorry?"

"Tracing my hack back to this flat. My compliments. Also, my compliments to whomever you have as archivist. They have done an excellent job with your files," Sherlock said.

The man smiled. "I'll pass that along."

"Do. May I assume that you _are_ here about the hack?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. Good job on that, by the way," said the man. "My tech barely caught the trail back to you. What were you looking for, anyways?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and smiled. "The Doctor," he said.

"Ah, The Doctor," the man nodded. "Why?"

"It's not every day that a - what is it called? - a TARDIS is parked in one's home. I wanted to know more about a man who seemed to know so much about me," Sherlock explained laconically. "It's been explained to me as 'fair play.'"

"So you've done your research," the man said casually. "You know then that I can't let you keep the information you stole."

Sherlock smiled deeply. "Ah, yes," he said. "This is one thing that I _have_ been wondering about. What do you call it? Retcon? Are you going to use that on me?"

Someone let themselves in downstairs and took the stairs to 221b. Sherlock frowned. Mycroft let himself into the flat.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked abruptly.

"Calm yourself, Sherlock," said Mycroft. "I was informed that you had... an interesting visitor. I merely wished to make sure that no one acted hastily."

"Who are you?" asked the American.

"No one important," Sherlock said, his tone scathing. Mycroft ignored his little brother's slight in favour of seating himself in Sherlock's seat. He primly crossed his legs and left one hand on the handle of his umbrella. "Why are you here?"

Mycroft favoured Sherlock with a longsuffering look. "Making sure your mess doesn't get out of hand, Sherlock," he said blandly. He turned back to the American. "Captain Harkness, how _is_ Torchwood Three doing these days?"

Harkness narrowed his eyes. "Who _are_ you?"

"Probably the most dangerous man you will ever meet," Sherlock said evenly.

Mycroft sniffed. "Please. I'm merely a minor government official."

Now it was Sherlock's turn to scoff, but he didn't say anything contrary. Captain Harkness looked between the brothers warily, sensing that there was more going on than what lay on the surface.

"I'm missing something, aren't I?" he asked.

"Well spotted," Sherlock said. his only concession to decorum was that he didn't clap mockingly, he just rolled his eyes instead. Mycroft aimed a chastising frown at him. He pulled out his phone and, looking deliberately at the Captain, dialled a number. He put his phone on speaker and laid it on the arm of his chair. It rang six times before someone picked up.

"Hullo?" said the female voice Sherlock recognized at the Scottish Amy.

"I assume that I am speaking with Missus Williams?" Mycroft asked.

There was a pause. "Uh, yeah," she said. "Who _is _this and how do you know who I am?"

"May I speak with The Doctor?" Mycroft requested, his eyes never leaving Captain Harkness.

"Uh, yeah, sure," she said, "Just hold a mo' he's a bit-" there was a clanking and a grinding noise "-busy. Here he is."

"Hello? This is The Doctor, who is this?"

"Doctor, this is Mycroft Holmes."

"Ah! Mycroft old boy, how are you? Are you in the twenty-first century too?" The Doctor asked.

"Indeed I am," Mycroft said, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged a shoulder, nonverbally promising to explain later.

"What can I do for you?"

"Torchwood," Mycroft said simply.

There was a silence on the line. "Ah. What about them?"

"Hello Doctor," said the Captain.

"Jack?" The Doctor sounded genuinely surprised. "What are you doing there?"

"Working. Someone hacked into the hub yesterday. Traced it back here. Now I'm having a lovely chat the hacker and someone who has your number."

"Let me guess," The Doctor said, "Sherlock got nosey. Oh! He would have _so_ much fun working on cases with your lot! A whole new world to Holmsian Forensic Criminology!"

"I'm glad you think so highly of my skills," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock Holmes!" The Doctor exclaimed, "How are you? Getting into trouble, I see. Jack, leave Sherlock alone. He won't say anything about your little band. Mycroft, we simply _must _do tea some time. _Rory! Not that one! The other one! What do you mean _what other one?_ The _wibbly_ one!_ Oh, got to go. I'll stop by soon. Amy wants pictures. Hasn't let me have a moments peace for forgetting. _No! The _wibbly one!"

He hung up. Mycroft pocketed his phone. "Does that conclude your business here, Captain Harkness?" he asked pointedly.

"Seems to," Harkness said, getting to his feet. "Good day, gentlemen," he said, casually saluting and letting himself out of the apartment. The Holmes brothers waited until they heard the front door close behind him before they looked at each other.

"I didn't require your help, Mycroft," Sherlock said with a frown.

Mycroft ignored him. "Do _try_ to keep from sticking your nose in places where people are likely to try to _shoot_ it off, Sherlock," he admonished. "And call Mummy. She's not heard from you in months."

"Go away, Mycroft. Don't you have a small nation to take over?" Sherlock sneered. Mycroft got to his feet.

"Take care of yourself, Sherlock," he said. "Barring that, don't fight Doctor Watson too hard when _he _tries to look after you. I can see myself out."

Sherlock just picked up his violin and scrapped painfully at it until Mycroft drove away in a black sedan. Then he put the violin down and steepled his fingers, settling back down into his mind palace.

Twenty minutes later, John returned home with the groceries.


End file.
